


come sneak up behind me (i'll be sleeping soundly)

by MyShameMachine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Percy Weasley, Childhood Trauma, Depersonalization, Derealization, Disassociation, Flashbacks, Good Percy Weasley, Heavy Angst, Multi, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Assault, Percy Weasley-centric, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Repressed Memories, Tags Contain Spoilers, Underage Rape/Non-con, look i promise none of this is graphic or as dark as it looks im just projecting, none of this is graphic its about the:, oh boy.... this looks so fucked up sorry gamers, possibly obliviated and regained
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:01:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29093892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyShameMachine/pseuds/MyShameMachine
Summary: After the War, Percy begins to have some troubling memories. Luckily, afterwards, he has people to help.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	come sneak up behind me (i'll be sleeping soundly)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written honestly as rather a vent, so it's not the best thing I've ever made. Bear that in mind and please read the warnings if you're sensitive to anything, there are... a lot of them. 
> 
> Also note: fred is dead but all the other weasleys are at least briefly mentioned if not enough to tag, there's also some brief harry x ginny , mentioned past percy x penelope, and (current) percy x oliver or percy x oliver x marcus if you squint if anyone has strong feelings there, this is not an accurate portrayal of everyone just me, probable misuse of bitish slang and tense changes

The first time it happens to him is After. After the Battle, after everything. Months after, when everything has finally begun to settle down. 

Everything is awkward, still, at the Burrow. Nobody is quite sure how to navigate the chasm that is Fred not being there, or the fact that Percy is always there, despite having his own apartment, trying desperately to fix everything he had broken, and it's working slowly. 

That is, until-

"Be quiet," George hisses, face white, wand out. And everyone jumps and is alert because George must have heard something, and Percy is just a second too late. Because-  
Someone had said that before, to him. He stuffs his shaking hands into his robe pockets after the noise is discovered to be just a raccoon, and if anyone sees, well, war has done things to all of them.

…..

The second time he's in the Ministry, and he passes by two women chatting amicably. He's hardly paying attention to their gossip as he strides past, or so he thinks.

"How is Jackie doing?" 

"Oh, he's potty trained already, he's such a good boy!" 

And Percy stumbles, almost dropping everything.

Such a good boy

Such a good boy

He comes back to himself just past the corridor, breathing heavily. There's no cause for this, but.

(He remembers, murkily, his bedroom, and something emerging from the curtains. It must have been a nightmare.) 

He shakes himself, continuing on. There was no reason to be reacting this way. 

…..

"How have you been, Perce?" Oliver asks, just before the third time.

"As well as can be expected," Percy says, pushing his glasses up his nose. 

"Have you met my friend, Marcus Flint?" Oliver asks, and Percy barely manages to shake his head before Oliver pulls someone toward him through the crowd.

"Why, hello, Percy." Marcus says, looking rather flustered.

And-

Why, hello Percy  
Why, hello Percy  
Hello Percy 

(There is something coming up from the curtains, a twisting figure. Everything is blurred, but it's obviously his childhood bedroom. The figure rises and he cannot make out a face-)

"Percy!" He realizes Oliver is shouting at him and Marcus Flint is staring.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, rushing off as quickly as he can. He feels Oliver's eyes on him as he goes, and his ears flame red.

…..

"Oliver's worried about you," Penny mentions, the next time he has dinner with her. They'd broken up some time ago, but had still somehow stayed friends.

She's looking at him steadily, but Percy ignores it.

"Yes, I, er, realized I'd forgotten something." Percy rubbed the back of his neck, pushing up his glasses. 

"Did you." It's not a question.

"Look Penny, can we drop it?" He says, a little desperately. 

"Fine, I won't tell anyone." Penny sighs, but Percy hardly hears it.

"I won't tell anyone," and this time it's Percy whispering. The figure is behind him, and the figure is within him, and he can't breathe. He tries to turn, to see a face, but hands? Claws? Stop him. There's something odd, Percy notes, but it's hard when he's so scared….

"Percy!" And Percy comes back to himself as he steps away from the table, arms out, as if to protect himself, and he's shaking, his teeth chattering.

"Look, I'm not going to say anything, but I think you should." She eyes him oddly. And her voice is softer when she says-

"Look, whatever you did or didn't go through, we're all coping, alright? There's no shame-"

Percy cuts her off, "I'm quite alright, Penny." Even his voice shakes. 

Penny rolls her eyes. "If you ever need me, just call."

Percy nods, sharply. He won't, but it's a nice offer.

"Thank you," he replies, stiffly.

It's quieter after that.

…..

Percy considers getting treatment, but it's so busy and he doesn't have the time, really.

(At night he wakes up and checks the curtains over and over until one day he just rips them down and throws them out of his room)

(He sleeps a little better after that.) 

Is it any wonder a few days slip by? When he works from so early in the morning to so late at night?

(He tries not to think about why he's always so tired.)

…..

(It happens again, a fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth… he stops counting. He can never see a face.)

(Percy's mind has always been capable of hiding things.)

…..

But he's coping. He goes to work every day, and he sleeps nights and manages with Oliver and Penny and sometimes Marcus, and his family.

He ignores how on edge he feels, as if he were teetering on a precipice and he couldn't tell if the hands that reached for him would push or pull.

It's with the uncertain hands of his family that everything finally cracks to pieces. 

It had been a hard day, the first day he'd ever had two incidents, and they had hardly been provoked, lurking just beneath the surface of his skin and screaming to come out. Each time seemed almost more tiring, and Percy flagged as he approached the house.

"Percy?" Molly said uncertainly as Percy trudged into the kitchen. He turned to her and blinked, mind not clicking quickly enough to respond.

"Are you alright? I was going to suggest you clean out your old room… but you're looking so tired, dear, perhaps you'd be better off with a lie-down?" Molly asked, walking closer. Percy's mind swam quietly before zooming back in. "... of course they've been overworking you, even Oliver's noticed you're off-"

"They're not overworking me, Mother," Percy replied quietly, dryly, like cracking plaster. It was true. All the extra work he did was entirely voluntary. If anything he needed more distraction, but Molly's brow was creasing with a new set of concerns he couldn't deal with.

"But a lie down sounds great," he added quickly, turning away from the house noise to walk to his childhood bedroom. He'd been avoiding the place half-consciously, barely questioning the crackle of fear he felt at the door and covering it with excuses about needing to be with the family.

He felt the distant crackle now as he pulled the door open and allowed himself to collapse on the bed. It felt like there was a pressure on his neck as he fell asleep.

…

The room is soft and blurred Percy is awake and his veins thrum thrum thrum his teeth chatter his hands are numb the curtains billow the figure rises

whyhellopercy

He should scream can he scream no he's so quiet the figure is so close he should turn his head Percy look but he's frozen

suchagoodboypercybequietpercy

the figure is touching him no don't touch him that's wrong that's bad so bad bad bad it hurts no there are words for what the figure behind him is doing to him Percy knows them he knows them he can't say them please this isn't real it can't be real no

youwonttellanyonepercythisisoursecretpercy

nopeteriwonttellanyone

Peter? Peter? 

Oh no.

…

Percy woke up screaming, sitting bolt upright as his lungs made shallow false attempts at breathing. In some subconscious part of his head he could hear someone at the door but he ignored it, jumping out of bed and striding to the windowsill. 

He yanked down the curtains, the figure that had once been behind them gone. Unappeased, Percy threw them to the ground and began stomping them under his feet. 

Had he known as a child? Fucking known Scabbers was Pettigrew? And done nothing? Had he really? He must have been such an idiot- he was a child though, just some stupid arrogant brat of a kid-

Someone touched his shoulder and he jerked violently then spun around and away from the touch as he was brought out of his thoughts. It was Ginny, and behind her the rest of the family.

"Don't bloody touch me," he said, his voice gruff and rattling from his earlier screaming. He had been going for a snarl but produced more of a sniff. Confused, Percy touched his cheek and found it practically soaked in hot tears.

"Alright, " Ginny replied evenly, not replying to the out of character swearing, and she took a deliberate step back. Percy relaxed marginally. Ginny took a deep breath, considering him carefully. "Alright?"

"I suppose." He replied, reverting to stiffness in absence of his normal protective shields. He actively prevented himself at wincing from how raspy his voice sounded. "I apologize for my, er, lapse in judgement. I'll be taking preventative measures so it doesn't happen again-" 

"Yeah, you will be, mate." Ron replied levelly from behind his sister. "You need to talk to someone. Probably shouldn't be me, but you're bloody destroying yourself." 

Ginny nodded in agreement. "This has gone on long enough, Perce," she said, crossing her arms. "You need to talk about this, whatever issue from the war-"

"It's not an issue from the war," Percy replied miserably. He sighed, looking out across all his worried siblings and family. His heart sank like the Titanic (slowly into cold depths) when he realized what he'd have to do. "I… think I have something to tell all of you."

…

A few minutes later, everyone was gathered awkwardly in the family room. Harry was included in the pack, seeing as Percy considered he was probably at risk at well. Percy hesitated, the words he needed to say crawling through his mouth but sitting heavily on his tongue as he shifted in his chair. 

His family- and oh how much he was grateful for that- waited patiently but attentively for a few minutes as Percy made a series of false starts. Finally, he cleared his throat and started again. 

"I've been having flashbacks, " Percy started, staring down the frames of his glasses at his hands. "They're of a figure in what I've realized is my childhood bedroom, rising from the curtains…" he took a few awful shallow breaths as his heart beat so fast it made him lightheaded and sick.

"They… touch me, " Percy said simply, awfully, haltingly. There were better words he could have used and he knew that, but they felt so big and awful and definite that Percy couldn't possibly bear to say them. Someone gasped but Percy didn't dare look up to see who before he continued. "I've… I now believe it happened. Possibly several times. "

His throat felt like he'd been forced to swallow warm chunks of uncooked potatoes and he resisted the urge to sniffle. He adjusted his glasses to a ringing shocked silence in the room. He still didn't dare to look out of his lap.

"My last nightmare has led me to believe the figure was Scabbers. Peter Pettigrew." He added, the pomp crawling back into his voice, his ever favorite final shield. "Therefore I may not have been the only… one affected by this. I believe you should all know."

"Percy, mate, that's so awful," Ron said raggedly.

"Yeah, definitely." George echoed, his eyes far away. Percy hoped they were further away than his room.

"We believe you. It wasn't your fault, Percy, that's- I'm glad he's dead," Ginny eventually piped up. She seemed in shock as well, one of her fists clenching and unclenching in her lap, the other holding Harry's hand, the person in question seeming unable to respond.

Molly and Arthur nodded.

"We're-" Molly's voice broke as she was very obviously trying not to cry. "We're here for you- we're sorry we weren't then-"

Percy nodded a brief but formal acknowledgement to all of them, unsure how to reply. The room was quiet.

"Can I give you a hug?" Ginny eventually asked. Percy contemplated the offer then shook his head slowly.

"I'd prefer you not." He said, and the room went quiet again. Percy sighed, exhausted. "I'm going home." 

"Son, I don't think that's a good choice," Arthur said, and a flare of irrational anger sparked in Percy. He stood up and marched out of the room anyway, turning at the doorway to reply.

"I'll be fine." He said stiffly, then marched out of the house to leave his family to deal with his new revelation. He was exhausted, tremors still running through his body. He felt far too hollow for his family's full-empty room.

…

Of course, when he did get home, the space seemed barren as well. Percy put his head in his hands, finally allowing himself to sob wholeheartedly. He felt too tired to go to bed and so he fell asleep on the couch. 

…

He woke up to the smell of pancakes. His body felt heavy but he got up anyway. Confused, he walked to his kitchen where he found George making pancakes.

"I don't want to talk about last night," he began, but George just shook his head. 

"God no, me neither, that was bloody awkward," George said. He was being serious, but Percy laughed anyway, the motion odd on his swollen tear ducts. George smiled ruefully back at him.

"So how's your joke store? I heard you started selling Bruising Biscuits," Percy said, eagerly changing the topic as he grabbed a pancake. George seized the topic change and the two argued policy and issues of when pranks became malicious. 

It was friendly and companionable and as Percy realized, both distracting and utterly normal. A warm feeling bloomed in his chest at what George was doing for him, intentionally or not. 

George left a few hours later, meeting his eyes and giving him a careful nod as he went. Percy was glad he'd been over.

…

The next contact he gets is from Ginny. It's a letter, written in Ginny's ever messy handwriting. She asks him over for tea, and he stares at the invitation for a while before concluding he's going to have to face his family at some point. Momentarily, he regrets announcing his... issue to his family like that. It had been stupid, impulsive, but there was nothing for it now, so he writes her back to accept. 

It's more accurate to say he doesn't allow himself to hesitate than to say he doesn't actually hesitate before his visit to her and Harry's. He's always had a bullheaded go and do it spirit, something that had got him through a truly ridiculous amount of schoolwork in Hogwarts. It's one of his better traits, he decides as he knocks on the door. 

Ginny opens it, invites him in with a tired smile. She's got a bottle of Ogden's firewhiskey in one hand and Percy immediately knows this talk will be a little harder than his… not-talk with George. He straightens his shoulders, preparing himself for an interrogation or a set of well meaning apologies laced with far too much pity. 

"Hey Perce," she says loosely, her voice soft but gravelly. She gestures to her tea table, set out with tea cakes and two shot glasses. "Do you drink? I know you didn't used to."

"Not usually, but when the times call for it…" Percy replies, and Ginny pours him a glass. "Is Harry here?" 

"No." Ginny flops down into one of the chairs and Percy follows suit, albeit more gracefully. Her face screws up, pinching in a little as she looks down to mutter, "I can't talk about this with him around. It just makes me feel so weird and awkward and guilty and gross. Sorry."

"No, it's all right." Percy downs the firewhiskey in one go and Ginny pours him another. They're jumping right into it. Not surprising. Ginny had always been very direct. He gulps the second shot as well.

"Yeah. Yeah, anyway," Ginny continues blearily, "I don't want to say I know how you feel, because I don't, and I'm not you. But you're not alone, alright?"

She pauses to pour both of them another shot, which Percy takes but doesn't drink. Ginny drinks, pounding it even faster than he had done. Percy wonders vaguely how much Ginny's had as he begins to feel a buzz coming on. He hates where he knows, knows, this story will lead but knows better than to stop the telling. An alcohol conversation indeed. 

"Most any of us from that fucked-up Hogwarts year know what you're on about, alright? Maybe not so young, but the Death Eaters… it wasn't just Pettigrew, alright? Bellatrix was so fucking vicious to Neville especially…" She's slurring, but it sounds like she's on the verge of tears, and Percy's heart aches high in his chest for everything the war had wrought.

"Ginny…" he says, the same awkward how-do-I-respond setting in. She flaps a hand at him dismissively. 

"So, yeah. You can guess, right?" Ginny laughs, but it's bitter. Percy nods. Of course he can. She's not obligated to say more. "I can't talk about it much. I just can't. Luna and I used to fight… she had to talk about it, over and over… and I couldn't… so if you actually want to talk this mess over, she's probably available. "

Percy takes his shot and the bottle from Ginny. He puts it to his lips and chugs it to the end, ignoring Ginny's protests.

"Fuck no," he says dizzily, relishing in the vulgarity of the language. " I don't wanna… fucking talk about it… I just want it to go away…" 

"Yeah… I hate it, Perce. I hate it. Why… why… would they do this?" Ginny says, hiccuping slightly. 

"Because they're bastards. Power-hungry, controlling, bastards." Percy gestures enthusiastically. He's talking too loud, but both the pair are too drunk to notice.

"Yeah! BECAUSE THEY'RE BASTARDS! BLOODY PONCE FUCKING WANKERS!" Ginny yells. She's crying, and she wipes her cheek. 

Percy joins in, and the two siblings yell insults about people who will never hear them but absolutely deserve them and worse for a few minutes until Ginny starts sobbing too hard to continue. He puts his arm around her awkwardly, pulling her close to his shoulder. He's crying too hard as well.

"You were right. They deserved to die." Percy finishes thickly, snottily, and he leans into her as she desperately nods. They stay like that until they fall asleep. 

Percy wakes up a few hours later when the door opens and Harry looks in. Percy's head pounds as he looks up, though Ginny doesn't stir.

"Alright?" Harry mouths, and Percy's grateful.

"Yes," he mouths back, afraid to move his head too much. He stands, walking closer to Harry. "I'll take my leave now."

Harry nods in understanding. He walks over to Ginny and pulls a nearby blanket over her, kissing her on the forehead. Percy looks away and goes out to apparate back home.

…

That leaves his parents and Ron, Percy supposes. He frowns. And Bill and Charlie, who he hadn't even told about this. He sighed, putting his head back into his hands. Why had he made this so hard on himself?

But there's never anywhere to go but forward. He might be ambitious, but Percy was a Gryffindor for a reason. He was brave in the quiet ways, in the forgery and displacement of documents rather than the rogue direct fight. 

Percy knew his family was not going to simply forget that he had confessed that he had been… he cursed himself for stepping around the words again. So he was brave in his quiet way and wrote off five letters, careful to mind the way his hands would shake.

…

He gets the first response at work the following day. It's from Ron, who agrees to come over tonight. He writes an acknowledgment to send back, then essentially wastes the workday.

Ron is late, because of course he is, but Percy dreads each minute, every tick of the clock. He wants to climb out of his skin and back into the past, to prevent all of this. To stop his stupid confession. To stop Pettigrew from ra-

A knock at the door interrupts his thoughts and he lets Ron in. 

"Hi Percy," Ron says sheepishly, and it's awkward. Percy closes the door. "Look mate, we both know why you invited me here."

"Yes, I've made efforts to smooth the waters with all of you. I understand my recounting of such an upsetting event was not done in an optimal way, and I'd rather like to speak with you personally, so thank you for affording me the opportunity." Percy was aware it was overly formal and a bit of a ramble. It couldn't be helped. 

" No, Perce, I mean- sure, that wasn't the greatest way to tell all of us that you'd been raped-" At that Percy winced and Ron swore. "Sorry Percy, Hermione told me not to say- that, if you weren't ready, my fault…"

"I would prefer you didn't, correct." Percy said thinly. He also felt a flash of irritation that Ron had apparently shared his personal affairs with Hermione so blithely, but he suppressed it. He should have known it would get back to her, seeing as he had told both Ron and Harry, shouldn’t he have? It still felt bad.

"Right, sorry. Mione also said I shouldn't have told her without your permission either, so I'm sorry about that as well. But look, if it makes you feel any better, I don't remember Scabbers doing anything like that to me, but I'm scheduled for an anti-Obliviation next week." Ron said, his ears turning slightly red, and Percy did feel slightly relieved. 

"Best wishes, Ron," He replies and suddenly- oh. He's out of his body. Reality takes a step back and rings in ears that aren't his. Ron is talking (maybe?) everything is broken and moments away and too late to make sense. 

It's not surprising- Percy's mind has always clicked off to one degree or another when he's under a stressor he can do nothing about if his adrenaline doesn't kick in. School had been hard and the war had been a disaster of adrenaline and missing moments. All of this mess had only made everything worse now too. Percy looked at his hands, turning them over.

He was alive wasn't he? But what did that mean? He could feel things when his hands weren't numb, he could see, he could think. He had to be alive; he flexed his fingers. How can one imagine an existence without existence? 

Percy flinched as an ice cube appeared in his palm and Ron's hand wrapped his over it. His breathing started to make sense and Percy was back. Confused, he looked up at Ron.

"Harry does that sometimes. I have once or twice myself," Ron shrugged. "Disassociation, Hermione calls it."

"...oh." Percy said, looking down at the melted ice cube in his palm. He suddenly felt very tired. "I'm sorry for that, Ron."

Ron shrugged again. "It is what is it is, Perce. Nothing to be sorry for." Ron shifted in vague discomfort. There was an awkward pause. "Look, I'm not who you should talk to- maybe look into a Mind Healer, yeah? I'm rubbish at emotions." 

"Alright. Yes, I'll consider that. I believe the Ministry offers sessions for free these days… but you're right, I've had more than my share of the emotional fare these past few days. Here's to a catch up?" Percy said, then adjusted his glasses. Ron nodded, and they had a proper catch up after all.

…

He doesn't see Bill or Charlie in person. They're both out of the country and Percy isn't about to requisition them outside of a holiday. Bill's letter back to him is about what you'd expect from a big brother- mingled support and shock with a fair dosage of wishing he could have punished Pettigrew himself. 

It's hard to read, and Percy finds himself frozen in a stare at the wall for a time afterwards, but he's grateful for the letter, and he writes back as such. And between them, that's the end of it.

Charlie's is later, and simpler. "I'm so sorry, Percy, how can I help?" It reads, the ink smeared and parchment charred. Percy floos him the next day, and they talk around the subject until he can feel Charlie relax.

Molly and Arthur are the last of his family to reply. He understands it must be hard, but he’s angry around the edges. How hard it must have been for them to hear must be nothing compared to how hard it had been for him to know, to feel, to say. And he was tired of the subject, sick and over and done with it. It was an especially unhappy anger, sick in the back of his mouth.

He wants to see his family again. He wants things to be normal. Being quiet had created space, but speaking had only widened the gap.

It took them an entire week to reply, and he missed Sunday dinner. Had they talked about him? Did his parents speak to his siblings? What were they saying? What was he missing?

The reply didn’t say anything about that, and he wondered if he hated them for that. What they wrote was a decided apology, tear-stained and horrible and not, not, what he wanted. It was an ask to talk, and he wanted to talk but he didn’t want to talk about- that. And he knew they would.

Well, there was a solution. 

…

As requested, he showed up the next day. As not requested, he brought Ginny with him. She met him in front of the house, her face grim and set. He nodded at her and she nodded back. It was the best dark solidarity he’d had since the Ministry.

They walked into the house together, Ginny fierce by his side. 

“Percy-” His mother said upon seeing him, a watery noise, then as he expected, she stopped and frowned. “Er, Ginny, can we speak to Percy?”

“Mum, I-” Percy carefully avoided looking at her, “I understand I introduced a difficult topic, and what I said can’t have been easy to hear. But, Mum- I can’t talk about it. Alright? I can’t.” His eyes pricked a little.

“Percy, we just- I just. We failed you as a child, and I feel so bad-” Molly burbled through- it would be an exaggeration to say she was sobbing, but her eyes were scrunched as she tried and failed to contain the tears that fell down her face. Ginny opened her mouth, presumably ready to spout a defense for him, but Percy raised a hand. 

“Mum, you didn’t. I know you feel- you couldn’t have known, alright? I was probably being Charmed. You had seven children to take care of. You couldn’t have protected us from everything. And I know you probably want to give me, an, an outpouring of sympathy, but that sounds so- uncomfortable. It would make me feel uncomfortable, not better. Please, Mum, I just want everything to be normal again. I just want everything to be normal.” His voice shook as he spoke, and he still didn’t dare look at Molly, who at least didn’t interrupt him. She was at least willing to listen.

There was a pause, then Molly spoke again. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” She said slowly. “If that’s really what you want, Percy, I’ll do my best to not treat you differently. And I won’t make you talk about- it. If you need anything, though, Percy, anytime, just…” Molly trailed off a little, still overflowing with the pity that rubbed so uncomfortably against Percy’s unconscious. 

“I know, Mum, I know.” He said softly. Ginny squeezed his wrist gently.

“Where’s Dad?” She asked suddenly, and Percy raised his head quickly, shocked at how long it had taken him to notice his father’s absence. Molly hesitated.

“He’s off in the other room. We weren’t sure if you wanted to discuss this with me first, it seemed a bit more of an, er, women’s issue, “ Molly said awkwardly. Percy bit into his lip. Her intentions were good, but…

“One in six,” Ginny said quietly. The pair turned to look at her. “One in six boys experience sexual assault. Now, it’s also a third or half of women depending on your statistics, but either way Percy’s not alone, Mum.” 

“Oh.” Molly said quietly, looking down. “ I shouldn’t have assumed…” 

“It’s… you meant well. We are closer than I am with Dad anyway.” Percy said. He was aware that he was getting a bit stiff, but it wasn’t his responsibility to perpetually console Molly. “Regardless, now that we’ve wrapped up this issue, could you invite him back so we can talk about anything I may have missed last Sunday dinner…?” He trailed off, eager to move on now that his points had been made and understood.

“Arthur!” Molly called, and Percy heard his father rapidly tumble down the stairs, then peer into the room. He looked at Ginny in mild surprise, and Percy could practically see him mentally dismiss the issue.  
“Alright, Percy? If you, er, need to talk about it, or your emotions or the like I’m here,” he said awkwardly. Percy just shook his head, suppressing a sigh.

“I’m alright.” He answered. “Did I miss anything major last Sunday?” He repeated, and Percy felt his stomach drop as Ginny leaned forward with a broad yet conniving grin ensnaring her face.

“Well, a certain concerned someone came to see if you were there,” Ginny said roguishly, and Percy felt his ears flame red as Molly picked up on exactly what Ginny was implying.

“Ginny! I would take kindly if you didn’t mention my, er, affections for Oliver. I should doubt they’re returned anyway,” Percy said, trying desperately to quell his rapidly raising hopes about his schoolboy crush.

“I don’t know Percy, he seemed pretty concerned about you,” Ginny wiggled her eyebrows. “I’m not saying jump into a relationship with him right now, it’s not the time, but don’t dismiss him forever…”

Molly nodded and began another of her speeches about how much fun a relationship could be. Embarrassed, Percy put his head in his hands and groaned as Ginny laughed and elbowed him good-naturedly. Things had been mended enough for it to go from there.

…

Oliver was the last to reply to one of his letters, not that Percy was surprised. Quidditch had just started up again and Percy had contacted him at the beginning of the busy season, the worst possible time. 

He hardly wrote anything at all, just the time and place of one of his practices and “Dinner after?” written at the bottom. Percy chuckled- never much one for letters, him- then marked his calendar so that he could be sure to be there.

…

As always, Percy showed up exactly on time, which was in this case just as practice was ending. The team was talking and Percy hesitated at the edge of a goalpost before Oliver gave a shout and walked over, grinning.

“Percy!” He greeted happily. “ It’s been a while, great to see you! Where d’you wanna go for dinner? I can recommend some great restaurants if you don’t have any in mind.” 

“Yeah, Oliver, I’d appreciate that, I’m in rather a mood for a surprise tonight, “ Percy replied, smiling back at him.   
“Mind if you Side-Along?” Oliver asked, holding out his hand before he grabbed Percy’s wrist. Percy gave an affirmative response and Oliver took his wrist gently and pulled him carefully closer before apparating the pair into a brightly lit alleyway outside a nice-looking restaurant covered in blue drapes.

“Does here look good?” Oliver released him and Percy nodded, faintly dazed from being so close to him. Oliver was coated in sweat, which should have smelled bad to him but instead made him feel safe. They walked into the restaurant together.

“Table for two?” The server asked, and after Oliver told her that was the expected party, she posed a more difficult question; “would you like indoor or balcony seating?” 

Oliver turned to Percy, eyes silently querying as to which way the evening was going to turn out. Percy hesitated- the balcony seating would be more romantic and he didn’t want to lead Oliver on now, but he didn’t want to convey a total lack of interest either. He decided to be bold.

“Balcony,” he said cautiously, not losing eye contact with Oliver, who tilted his head and smiled at him as Percy felt a thrill of some unidentifiable emotion pass through him. He smiled back, and they waited a few moments in comfortable silence before being seated.

Once seated and in relative privacy, Oliver seemed to struggle for a second. Percy waited patiently. “I have two questions and I don’t know which to ask first.” The Quidditch player finally admitted nervously.

“Go on,” Percy said casually, though he doubted either question would be casual.

“Well, first; are you alright? I know I’ve been busy lately and I’m sure you have too, but we haven’t been getting together as often, and when we have, you’ve been more distant. More scared, maybe. You seem a little better today.” Oliver said, quiet and careful and concerned but not pitying, so Percy could work with this.

“I have been a little worse for the wear lately, “ Percy confessed. It was rather an understatement, but it would do. “I’m going to see a Mind-Healer about it, actually. I’ve decided to stop running from my issues and start to address them.”

“That’s good, Percy,” Oliver replied openly, no judgement in his voice. “ I can recommend a good one, actually,” and he handed Percy a business card. Percy took it and scanned it over.

“You go to a therapist?” Percy asked, in some surprise, though it was obvious he did. 

“Yeah, he’s pretty great.” Oliver said, shrugging calmly. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Percy felt warmer at that, better. It was nice to not feel so alone, to know that he wasn’t the only person who might seem to have their life together but was actually struggling. It was some kind of bond, at least. He pocketed the card and looked expectantly back at Oliver, ready for his second question, which he couldn’t say he didn’t have an inkling of.

“Is this a date?” Oliver asked, his nerves clear in his expression. “If I’ve misinterpreted, I’ll back off, that’s not an issue. I’d never pressure you- we can stay friends, if you’re not interested.”

“I- I’m not ready for a relationship. Not right now.” Percy admitted after a brief pause. “ I like you, romantically, and I’d love to date you sometime but I’m not in a good place for it right now, mentally. Not to be cliche, but it’s not you, it’s me.”

Oliver considered him for a moment, then nodded. 

“I understand, “ he replied, and it felt like a boulder was removed from Percy’s shoulders. “I’m good to wait for you, you know? Maybe not forever, but I can wait a good long while. And if you’re ever ready, I’m happy to go as slow as you need.”

“Thank you,” Percy said in return, blinking his eyes rapidly to keep them from watering. Oliver smiled kindly back at him, and for a few moments, there was a calm silence punctuated only by the ambient noise of the street below.

The server appeared soon after, and the two enjoyed a playful and friendly dinner that left Percy feeling more refreshed and loved than he had in at least a month. 

Just before it was time to go, Oliver gave him a final careful look. “Feel better, Percy,” he said, slowly moving his hand toward Percy’s and giving it a quick squeeze. Percy smiled back at him, feeling soft and airy and light.

“Yeah, I think I will,” he said back, and in that moment, he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hope you enjoyed and didn't hate my total inability to write dialogue too much... I wanted to create a fic that felt more realistic to me personally, though some aspects aren't quite as they might be in real life obviously. 
> 
> For anyone curious, Percy does not tell Oliver about his childhood experiences at this time.
> 
> If any of you have been through anything like this, I'm here for you, and so is RAINN, if you'd like to google them. It gets better, y'all. Tell me if anything else needs tagging.  
> Title is from "Dirty Night Clowns" by Chris Garneau.


End file.
